But what if we?
by DeadFoxy
Summary: A selection of story ideas, containing AUs and various other bits and bobs that might become more than oneshots later. Warning! Includes a dose of humour, a dash of tragedy and a strong helping of sarcasm. Everything else changes with the wind.
1. One Soul, Two Versions

_To those who didn't see above, this is a collection of story ideas that I might or might not continue with if I have the time. This particular collection is a bunch of Harry Potter AUs._

_Disclaimer: I do not, never have and never will own Harry Potter. _

_Harry in another dimension, like that hasn't been done before._

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How could two versions of one person be so completely different? They didn't even look the same, although the similarities were present. The one on the right was taller and bulkier. His dark hair was artfully ruffled and he wore expensive-looking robes and glasses.

In comparison, the one on the left was smaller and painfully thin. He had numerous scars and his black hair was longer and less styled. His spectacles were battered and he wore a dull black robe over an old t-shirt, threadbare jeans and a worn pair of sneakers.

But the thing that truly distinguished one version from the other was the eyes. The first pair was a clear, sparkling green; proud and young and the colour of a grassy meadow in summer. They were warm and bright and alive.

The second pair was older, colder and darker. They were clouded with exhaustion and sorrow and deadened by pain. While also green, they were the beautifully terrifying hue of the Avada-Kedavra curse.

One person, two worlds, two lives, two souls. As different as day and night, but both born Harry James Potter, only son of Lily and James Potter. Two Harrys. Somewhere, the Universe was laughing itself into a stupor.

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James stared at the 'Warrior' Dumbledore had summoned. The headmaster had explained that the ritual created a portal through time and space, through reality itself, to call forth that which was most needed. Clearly something had gone wrong, as they had just received an alternate version of his son. An alternate version of his son that seemed unspeakably angry. Why did he have two wands? And was that a sword at his waist? James blinked and focused as the boy spoke.

"What the hell have you done?" he hissed. James idly noticed a vivid scar on the boy's forehead, half-obscured by his roughly-cut bangs. Albus stepped forward, the comforting smile on his face wavering slightly when the boy pointed one of his wands at him and drew back with a snarl.

"My dear boy, you have been summoned here to assist us in our war against a powerful Dark Lord. The ritual has called you from an alternate world to our own as we need your help. My name is…"

"I know exactly who you are!" the boy spat. "Haven't you caused enough damage? I thought that after everything was over I'd be free of your meddling in my life, but apparently not!" Dumbledore seemed shocked by the venom in the boy's voice and tried to protest but was silenced once again by the summoned Harry. "I did everything that was required of me! Voldemort is dead and you still won't leave me in peace! I sacrificed my life for your precious 'Greater Good', dammit!"

"Wha'?" Dumbledore gaped. He was clearly having some trouble adjusting to the fact that the boy he had just summoned obviously hated him. James heard harsh laughter and turned. There stood Snape, the much hated spy for the Order, his black eyes dancing with unconcealed mirth at the headmaster's expense. The boy's eyes flickered to Snape and his scowl deepened.

"Oh, so you're still alive too, huh? Figures. This reality is just going to suck," he growled, lowering his wands and stowing one away up his sleeve. Dumbledore appeared to have shaken off his surprise and hesitantly recaptured the boy's attention.

"Harry…It is Harry, isn't it?" When the boy nodded, he sighed in relief and spoke again. "Clearly there have been some mistakes on my alternate self's part, but I assure you, I would never ask you to sacrifice your life for this!" Harry glared at him.

"You want me to help you kill Voldemort again! Of course, taking on the Dark Lord is a walk in the park and no threat to anyone's safety at all! Those lemon drops have gone straight to your head, old man, and nobody seems to realize it but me. But…whatever. Just point me in the direction of old snake-face. Let's get this over with so I can go back to my misery in peace." James felt it was time to make his presence known and cleared his throat. Harry turned to him and James caught a flash of pain cross his face before it once more settled into a scowl. "What?"

"Perhaps we'd better explain the full situation before we do anything," James suggested, glancing at Albus. The headmaster nodded.

"Very well, James. We shall discuss this in my office. Minerva, could you organize the others and get the Great Hall cleaned up? Thank you, my dear. James, Severus, come with me. Harry, if you would?" Everybody scattered in different directions, James following Albus out of the hall, Harry striding ahead of them, muttering irritably and Snape trailing behind, still chuckling.

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Albus gazed worriedly at the youth in front of him. Of all the possibilities he'd anticipated when he'd performed the ritual, this had not been one of them. The boy had positioned himself in a corner of the office, close to the door, as though expecting to be attacked at any moment, and was now watching the three men with wary, distrustful eyes. He was so thin. And those scars. Albus shuddered to think about what the child had gone through to come out so hardened and bitter. What had his alternate self done to the boy? Clearing his throat in discomfort, he tried to smile at the child.

"Lemon drop?" If looks could kill, he'd be dead a thousand times over.

"It might be easier if we knew what was different between our two realities before we discuss the matter of Voldemort. After all, you are nothing like the Harry Potter we have in this dimension," Dumbledore said, glancing at a curiously-silent James Potter and the now-smirking Severus Snape.

"Fine. Question one: Is there a prophecy? Question two: What do you know about Horcruxes? And Question three: Why hasn't anyone poisoned you with those ridiculous sweets yet?" Harry shot back. Dumbledore blinked.

"Well, I'm not quite sure. Firstly, I do not know anything about a prophecy. Secondly, what would you know about such dark magic? And thirdly, I scan all my lemon drops before eating them." The headmaster smiled when the youth sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Well, if there's no prophecy, why haven't you just killed him already? I mean, come on! The guy's more than a little insane, you know? Or was that just my Voldemort?" At their confused faces, he sighed again. "The Voldemort of my reality split his soul into seven Horcruxes, eight actually but that was accidental on his part. Anyway, mutilating his soul like that left him more than a little unstable. He was still a bitch to put down though. I tell you, Horcrux hunting is not my idea of a great time." They gaped at him and he scowled. Snape began chuckling again.

"Look, can we just get this over with? I'd like to get back to my own reality as quickly as possible, preferably without having to deal with any more annoying dead guys," Harry snarled, throwing Snape a filthy look. Dumbledore shook himself.

"Yes, yes, of course. Well, I'll have Minerva make you a file of all we know about this reality's Lord Voldemort, shall I? And in the mean time, you can stay with your alternate self and his family," the headmaster smiled.

"Joy," muttered James Potter under his breath as Harry groaned.

"Can't I just hide out here in the dungeons somewhere, or something?" he asked dully, clearly not expecting Dumbledore to agree. And he was right.

"Nonsense! I'm sure the Potters will be thrilled to have you! After all, it's not every day you get to meet family members from an alternate reality," Dumbledore beamed.

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_Grumpy little thing isn't he? And Snape really freaked me out with all his laughing, but I seriously didn't mean to write him like that. He just ended up that way, they have minds of their own, I swear! Anywho, that's one of them done. _

_DeadFoxy out!_


	2. Rumours

They were nothing but rumours, myths. They were tales told late at night, in the darkest of corners, by the best of the best. Stories of ghosts in the darkness, unstoppable killers, children of Death himself that moved without sound and vanished like a mirage, leaving a trail of destruction and despair. Their names were spoken in whispers, for they were the seven Swords of the infamous Shadow Clan.

They spoke of Striker, the Bolt of Heaven, an expert marksman known for his surprise attacks, relentless pursuits and perfect aim.

Flare, of the Golden Abyss, was a chemical genius and a pyromaniac, and was by far the most destructive of the Shadow Swords, feared by foe and ally alike.

They whispered of Wraith, of the Silent Rose, the unpredictable wielder of whips that could slice and capture as well as they could cripple and maim.

Blood, the Nightmare Blade, was a swordmaster without equal and carried a sword so large and sharp that it could supposedly cleave a building in two with one stroke.

They shuddered at the mention of Inferno, the Knight of Damnation, an invincible demon that systematically and ruthlessly slew his opponents with cold precision using a flaming, double-edged axe, longer than a man.

Vortex, of the Secret Sorrows, was an expert of infiltration, interrogation and torture, disposing of enemies and obstacles with her silver claws, hidden blades and terrifying laughter.

And they spoke reverently of Reaper, the Seeker of Souls, the invisible poison master that commanded serpents and shadows alike and could kill with merely a touch, glance or soft-spoken word.

They were legendary beings and death was inevitable once one was within their sights. Those that received their symbol of warning, a black wolf before a crescent moon, were dead within twenty four hours.

They were the Shadow Swords, Children of Death.


	3. Kiss of Death

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, the streets would run red with blood…_

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_What if the dementors hadn't been sent by the ministry? What if they were there for another reason entirely? And what if Harry Potter's life just became a whole lot stranger?_

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It had been almost a year since Harry Potter had disappeared from his relatives' home during the summer holidays after the Triwizard Tournament. Nearly a year since the Dursleys had been found subjected to the Dementor's Kiss, along with their neighbour, a squib known as Arabella Figg. And it had been nearly a year since Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, upon learning that Harry was nowhere to be found, went missing themselves soon afterward.

In that time, Voldemort had revealed himself in a failed attack upon the ministry, a defense group known as Potter's Army had been formed at Hogwarts (led by Hermione Granger and Ron and Ginny Weasley) and several prominent Death Eaters had attempted to escape Azkaban. They'd all been cornered and Kissed by the Dementors, however, before the aurors had arrived.

Therefore, when Dumbledore informed the Order of the Phoenix that Harry Potter had been found, their response was explosive. Molly Weasley instantly began inquiring/enquiring about his health while Ron, Ginny and Hermione started begging to be allowed to see him. The twins were dancing joyously around the kitchen, chanting their infamous 'We Got Potter' song and the rest of the Order were all pressing for more details. Once order had been restored, Dumbledore continued.

"Harry was found by two of our ministry operatives who'd been keeping an eye on one of the vampire clans that we suspect will refuse Voldemort's offer of an alliance. They spotted Harry exiting the home of the Clan Leader, and, suspecting him of being one of Voldemort's men, they attacked him and brought him here for interrogation. You can imagine their surprise when they discovered that he was, in fact, Harry Potter." Here, Dumbledore chuckled, before noticing the anxious, horrified or skeptical looks on his companions' faces.

"Do not worry. Harry seems to be perfectly fine. He was not turned by the vampires and we are now just waiting for him to wake up to ensure that there are no other problems we should be concerned about." At that moment, a young, pink-haired auror by the name of Tonks skidded into the room, tripping through the doorway on her way in.

"He's awake!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Moody and Shacklebolt are keeping guard but Madame Pomfrey's already started her scans." Dismissing the Order, Dumbledore followed the metamorphmagus from the room.

Harry had certainly changed during the year he'd been missing. His once scruffy black hair had grown out into a smooth, silky ponytail, tied back with a black band and held secure by a silver clip. His features were more sharply defined and his skin had paled to an almost unearthly glow. There were dark circles almost like bruises under his eyes. He had grown slightly, though was still short, and he was even thinner than normal. He was wearing a black cloak over a set of dark grey robes with silver embroidery and a silver earring dangled from his left ear. The biggest change was his eyes. No longer hidden behind a pair of glasses, they were a dark, vivid green and held no life in them. Albus resisted the impulse to shiver when their dead gaze landed on him.

"Hello, Harry. You've had us all quite worried, you know. Your friends had almost given up hope that we would ever find you," Dumbledore smiled, nearly frowning when no response was forthcoming. He continued regardless.

"Now, I know you've probably been through a lot, but do you think you could tell us anything about what happened to you? Can you do that for me, Harry?" he asked intently, leaning forward to stare directly into Harry's eyes, desperate to see even a trace of the boy they'd pinned all their hopes on a year ago. He drew back as if burned a moment later when he'd tried to catch hold of one of Harry's small, pale hands and encountered skin like ice. The boy was so cold! He cast a worried glance at Pomfrey, who was frowning and muttering over the results of her scans. She felt his gaze and looked up, still frowning.

"As far as I can tell, Headmaster, he's perfectly fine, aside from his abnormally low body temperature. It doesn't seem to be affecting him in any way and I really can't explain it!" she said, clearly frustrated.

"What about his lack of response?" Dumbledore questioned. The nurse shook her head and scowled down at the silent teen.

"Harry, stop playing games with headmaster," she scolded, but a small smile pulled at the corner of her lips when said teenager sighed and gave a grumbled assent, drawing Dumbledore's startled gaze. Staring at the now smirking boy, he felt a wave of relief wash through him. If the child was making jokes, then perhaps things would turn out better than he'd originally hoped. His relief was short-lived, however, when the smirk vanished and the blank mask settled over Harry's face as he stood.

"Not that this has not been entertaining, Dumbledore, but I cannot stay. So, if you and your companions would be so kind as to point me towards the exit, I shall be on my way," he stated calmly, his voice quiet but with a strange echoing quality to it. This time, Dumbledore did frown.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Harry. We are at war with Voldemort, after all, and you are in danger. We still require information about your relatives' fates and, of course, your own whereabouts and activities this past year," said the old wizard. Something flashed through those dark eyes, but it was gone before Dumbledore could identify it. The air seemed to grow colder and Harry's face hardened slightly.

"I do not believe I was asking for your permission, Dumbledore. That 'request' was merely a polite way of telling you that I shall be leaving now. I suggest that you and your interfering Order stay out of my way in the future. This is your only warning on the matter," he drawled icily, ignoring the wands that were being trained on him by Moody and Shacklebolt. Dumbledore drew himself up to his full height and there was no twinkle in his eyes now.

"Who are you?" he demanded, feeling dread course through him.

"I am Harry James Potter, and I refuse to be your pawn. I suggest you find yourself another Gryffindor to do your bidding, because I am no longer a part of this foolish wizard war," Harry replied coldly, his face still expressionless. It was at this moment that Moody threw a stunner, only to blink in shock when Harry smoothly side-stepped the spell then glided silently up before him, green eyes narrowed. The man found his wand arm trapped by a grip like ice and as strong as steel.

"You have just made your last mistake," the boy whispered and surprised everyone when he locked lips with the grizzled ex-auror. The man slumped to the floor, eyes blank, as Harry turned towards the three horrified Order members still in the room. A light flush had spread across his cheeks and an unholy gleam was present in his unfathomable eyes. The air in the room seemed to chill even further and a thick frost began to creep up the window panes.

"You are no longer the one pulling the strings, Dumbledore. I am the Puppet-Master now," the boy informed the stunned man matter-of-factly in his echoing voice, dismissing the spells Shacklebolt was sending his way with a casual flick of one hand. He glided to the door, paused, and cast his gaze back to the still-alive but soulless ex-auror.

"Come along, Moody. Leave the Order to their pointless war," he said. Pomfrey screamed as the man rose to his feet and followed silently as Harry swept from the room.

Their path to the front door was blocked as various Order members hurried to respond to the scream. For a moment, there was silence as the Order stared at Harry and Harry gazed impassively back. This silence was broken by Shacklebolt's desperate yell.

"Stop him!"

In the chaos that followed, two more people, namely Mundungus Fletcher and Hestia Jones, joined Moody in his soulless service of Harry. Dumbledore remained in shock at the fact that young Harry Potter had disappeared once again, with no intention of coming back…

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_And there you have it, another clichéd 'Harry goes rogue' story. This one with a DeadFoxy flair, oh yeah! Bring on the mindless minions! Bwahahaha!_

_I like this one._


	4. Roll the Dice

_Again, another AU. Who doesn't enjoy a good fantasy RP adventure once in a while? And with children brimming with emotion-driven, wild magic, this could so easily happen. I'm going to enjoy this…_

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It started as a game, played by a group of lonely, outcast children with nowhere else to go. Their only escape was the one offered by their imaginations. Each was alone, separated from others their age due to both their uniqueness and their fears.

Su Li, the new girl from China, mocked for her accent and her different customs. Dean Thomas, an artistic black boy, teased for his eccentric beliefs and behaviour. Tracey Davis, a pale, blonde girl, more comfortable with animals and nature than with people. Kevin Entwhistle, a blonde boy who was mute around strangers and preferred to stay out of sight. Megan Jones, a redhead with a temper easily riled by bullies and adults. Justin Finch-Fletchley, a tall, gentle brunette, shunned for being a giant sissy. Hermione Granger, a highly intelligent girl with brown hair who was academically brilliant but socially awkward. Harry Potter was a quiet boy that was hated by his relatives and ridiculed by his peers for his poor clothing.

None of these children were any stranger to the term 'freak', so casually tossed like an epithet at them by classmates and relatives alike. So they banded together, seeking comfort and solace with others who could understand. And they played a game, a game where they could be as powerful and 'freakish' as they wished. Guided by Hermione and, surprisingly, Kevin, they took on the traditional roles found in fantasy quests.

Su Li, small and quick, became their invisible assassin and thief. Quirky Dean became the light-fingered bard and pickpocket that was rather handy with a sword. Tracey Davis, the nature-lover, chose to be a druid and shaman. Silent Kevin decided to be a ranger, both an expert tracker and a top-notch marksman. Fiery Megan was the obvious warrior, skilled with any weapon she wielded and quick to both attack and defend. Justin, gentle but firm in his resolve, chose to be a cleric, both a healer and a slayer of the undead and the damned. Hermione, always the scholar, became the group's wizard, expert with potions, magical artifacts and runes. And Harry, overlooked and seemingly harmless, was the sorcerer, a being of magic that manipulated the energy of the universe, bending it to his will with a simple word or gesture.

And what started as a game began to be real as the children developed abilities and powers to match their chosen paths; unconsciously becoming the people they so wished to be.

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They all sat in one compartment, enlarged by Harry with just a wave of his hand. They were an odd group, even for the magical community that they were about to join. Having spent so much time as their characters, their inherent magical abilities had shifted to adapt to their new styles. Therefore, although they all had what was required of them by the school, their wands had been specially crafted by Ollivander to match their skills and techniques, which were too far developed to reverse now.

Su Li's 'wand' was actually a fan with bladed edges that she kept tucked in the sash wrapped around her waist. Her dark hair was pinned up with two bodkins and she had both a coiled whip and a set of darts attached at her waist as well. Lock picks were hidden in her boots and a poison ring decorated one hand. She also had the ability to fade into the shadows, which she was doing now as she sat in the corner of the compartment with her poisonous frog, Belladonna.

Beside her, Dean was humming cheerfully, his black hair artfully windswept. His 'wand' was split between his flute and his guitar, which were attached to his belt and slung across his back respectively, allowing him to create magic both literally and musically at the same time. His own set of lock picks were kept in a hidden pocket of his tunic and his short sword was sheathed at his waist. He had no pet, being a tad irresponsible at the best of times.

Tracey's wand looked more like a twig, the wood rough and unpolished, with leaves and even a flower growing from one end. It was tucked behind her ear. She had pockets filled with pouches of crystals and herbs and her long hair had flowers braided through it. Coiled up her ankles, as well as her wrists and along her brow, were her shaman symbols, a pale green that shimmered in the sunlight. Her toad, Demetrius, sat quietly in one of her pockets.

Kevin's wand had been built into his collapsible bow, allowing him to shoot both spells and his numerous types of arrows. A hunting knife was strapped to his thigh and he wore a green, hooded cloak over his clothing. It was both water and magic resistant, as were his sturdy boots. His blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail at the base of his neck and his constant companion was a smoky grey cat he called Ash.

Megan's wand was crafted into the handle of a small dagger that she had strapped to her left forearm, matching the holstered dagger on her right arm. Two more daggers were tucked into her boots and a set of matching swords was sheathed at her hips. She wore her customary leather jerkin as well as her greaves and her red hair was tied back with a leather band. She, like Dean, had opted not to get a pet, having little patience for them.

Justin's 'wand' was actually a carefully constructed glove that he wore on his right hand, the one he used for healing and banishing creatures of darkness. A golden medallion bearing the symbol of his clerical order, a dove in flight, was hung around his neck. From his belt hung a small book, several vials, and pouches of herbs, incense and a silver dagger. In his trunk was packed his slaying kit, his candles and his chalks. He too wore a hooded cloak, his order's symbol decorating the edges. His barn owl, Bartholomew, sat quietly on the back of his seat.

Hermione, as their wizard, had not a wand but a staff, taller than herself and beautifully carved. Her belt was hung with various amulets, rune stones, powders, potions and charms. The sleeves of her robes were lined with pockets in which she stored more of the same. Across her shoulder was slung a pack that contained a spell book, a telescope and a collapsible cauldron. Her own hooded cloak was embroidered with powerful runes and she was followed everywhere by an orange cat with a superior attitude called Crookshanks.

Harry, as a sorcerer, had no need of a wand, but found that having one did make it easier to channel the magic for his more powerful spells. He wore his in the form of an amulet, into which a large emerald had been set, around his neck. Strange symbols snaked their way up his left arm, over his chest and up the left side of his neck and face, their silver swirls glittering strangely in the light. A small, silver snake-shaped armlet was coiled around his right wrist, ready to spring to life at a hissed command. His hooded cloak was a plain, undecorated black and contrasted sharply with the white owl perched on his shoulder that answered to the name Hedwig. He wore plain black clothing under his robes and had a small, emerald ring on his right hand.

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Severus Snape eyed the first-years waiting patiently for the sorting curiously. He'd instantly spotted his godson, who was looking sulky about something, but his gaze had been drawn to the group of eight that stood slightly apart from the rest. They wore strange clothing both under and over their school robes and carried various objects, some of which he was familiar with, and others he wasn't. A shiver of foreboding crept over him at the sight of them and he resolved to pay close attention to their sorting.

When Minerva called for a 'Davis, Tracey', a distinctly pure-blood name even if the girl was only a half-blood, the first of them came up. She was tall and blonde, flowers braided in her hair and strange symbols decorating her forehead. It was with some surprise that the hat sorted her into Slytherin. Some of her friends seemed equally surprised, but all of them clapped regardless.

The next to come up was the blonde boy, in response to the call for 'Entwhistle, Kevin'. He wore a strange, green cloak over his school robes and ended up in Ravenclaw, where once again his friends clapped for him, as they did for each of them that went next.

Another boy, named 'Finch-Fletchley, Justin', this time in a white cloak with gold trim was next. A gold medallion gleamed from his neck and he ended up in Hufflepuff.

It was when Minerva called 'Granger, Hermione' that another girl stepped forward, this one a brunette. Her cloak was deep blue and decorated with runes while she carried a large staff in her hands. When the hat sent her to Gryffindor, Snape began to grow concerned. So far, their odd group had been evenly split between the four Houses. He looked around, but nobody else seemed to be aware of or concerned about this fact. Even the headmaster was still twinkling benignly at the first-years. It was with some misgiving that the Potions Master turned back to the sorting, just in time to see another one get called up as 'Jones, Megan'.

She wore no cloak, but had strange-looking guards on her arms and she was scowling fiercely underneath the mass of coppery curls that had been drawn back harshly from her face. She joined the Finch-Fletchley boy in Hufflepuff.

A short Asian girl was next, her black hair pinned back in a severe braid and her face expressionless. Her name was 'Li, Su' and she made no sound as she walked. She ended up in Ravenclaw and seated herself beside the Entwhistle boy. The next one surprised Snape, though.

'Potter, Harry', was a name that caused the hall to erupt in whispers, but Snape could only stare as a small boy with feathery black hair, large green eyes and silver symbols covering the left side of his face made his way to the front. He wore a plain black cloak over his school robes. And when the hat placed him in Slytherin, Snape felt his jaw drop. Seemingly unbothered by the mass shock he had just induced with his sorting, the Boy-Who-Lived casually sauntered over to the Slytherin table and seated himself beside the Davis girl with a small smile.

It was with some difficulty that Snape managed to focus his attention once more on the sorting, taking note that there was just one more of 'them' left. He thought he already had an idea of where the boy was going to go, and was not surprised when the youth with the guitar on his back was sorted into Gryffindor. He still felt uneasy at the fact that eight unusual children, who all seemed to know each other, were evenly divided into each House. And as he glanced at a still-smiling Potter, seated comfortably as a Slytherin, he just knew that the coming year would be hell.

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By the time Halloween drew near, everyone knew of the eight strange first-years that performed magic like no-one else could and seemed uninterested in fitting in with the rest of their peers. They whispered of the silent Ravenclaw that haunted the Forbidden Forest with his spell-shooting bow. He was frequently joined by the dreamy Slytherin that spoke to animals and trees alike and wandered the grounds barefoot, no matter the weather. They gossiped about the odd pair of Hufflepuffs, the boy that seemed gentle and sweet but who the ghosts and even Peeves avoided like the plague, and his vicious companion that appeared to pull bladed weapons from thin air and took down anyone who tried to bully them with a psychotic laugh. They spoke in hushed tones of the elusive Ravenclaw girl that could vanish into the shadows like a wraith and get into any room, often accompanied by the charismatic but sticky-fingered boy from Gryffindor that sang his magic and played it musically on a flute. And they talked openly of the Potter boy in Slytherin that used magic as easily as he breathed, with no wand in sight, nearly always in the company of the muggle-born Gryffindor girl who wielded a staff and could recite any book in the library off by heart. Their year-mates were both in awe of and jealous of their clear talent and unique skills, resulting in several confrontations and skirmishes. Eventually, all but the most dim-witted or antagonistic of their peers gave up trying to approach or cause trouble for them. And the year continued.

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"That was horribly easy and I'm quite disappointed in our professors," Su said, shaking her head.

"Agreed," Dean hummed, as the rest of their group nodded.

"Well, let's get on with it then," snapped Megan, but she was grinning. The fight with the troll had been hugely exhilarating for her. Justin sighed and rolled his eyes, avoiding her half-hearted swing at him with a laugh.

"Well, I'm guessing that the stone can only be accessed through the mirror, therefore it will take a specific kind of desire to obtain it. This is the mirror of Erised after all," Hermione spoke up, examining the object and the spells around it intently.

"Well, we take it in turns then," Dean said brightly, and stepped towards the mirror, only to be pulled back by a frowning Harry.

"Hold on, I think I have an idea. This is Dumbledore's defense, after all, and spending all that time in his office this year, due to the fact that I'm not the pliable little hero he wanted, has given me a pretty good idea of what he would do," the sorcerer explained. He moved in front of the mirror and frowned into its depths. A moment later, he smiled in satisfaction and reached a hand into the pocket of his robes, withdrawing a small object.

"Philosopher's Stone, anyone?" he asked smugly.

"What was the trick?" Hermione asked curiously as the others passed the stone among themselves, each getting a good look at it. Harry snorted derisively.

"The only way to get the stone was to want it, but not to want to use it. Since I don't particularly need the stone for gold and I'm not all that interested in living to the age of 600 or so, it was easy to get. Typical Dumbledore, though, trying to create a protection based on a person's goodness, or lack thereof."

"I see. Well, come on, we better get going before someone realizes what we've done. No traces were left behind?" Hermione turned to the group enquiringly and they all shook their heads. With that, Tracey clapped her hands and a house-elf wearing a tea towel that bore the crest of the Davis house appeared with a crack.

"Sniffle, kindly take Kevin and Su back to the Ravenclaw common room please. When you're done, you can pop Hermione and Dean to Gryffindor, Justin and Megan to Hufflepuff and then you can come back for Harry and I," she said gently and the elf nodded, large ears flapping. Within moments, all of the students were back in their own common rooms. And as Harry made his way to his dormitory, he pondered over the little adventure they had just had.

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_Part 2 will show how the group found out about the philosopher's stone and how they handled the challenges. They are so entertaining to write, it's like they created themselves. Definitely going to see more of this lot._


	5. A Rebel and his Raiders

_This is how you win a war. Watch and learn…_

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The Order members gazed in stupefied shock at the scene they found themselves witnessing. They knew that there had been another faction in the war against Voldemort, a group that seemed to know everything and had contacts everywhere. They also knew that the group called themselves Raiders and that they followed one leader, a mysterious commander known only as Rebel. What they did not know was just how extensive the Raiders' base of operations was.

McGonagall, Snape, Tonks, Moody, Shacklebolt, the Weasleys, Lupin, Black and Dumbledore stared in awe at the massive hallway they found themselves in. It was lined with numerous colourful doors and they could hear muffled shouts, explosions and other strange noises from beyond them.

Their guide huffed impatiently and they turned their attention back to the young man who was supposed to be showing them around the base. He was dressed in the dove-grey robes that all Raiders wore, as well as the supple mask that covered half of their faces. His mask was silver in colour, as was the badge of a flaming sword on the chest of his robes.

"If you're all quite finished gawking, perhaps we can begin?" he asked irritably, his grey eyes flashing and his mouth pressed into a thin, disapproving line. It was clear that he was unhappy with the Order's presence in the base but was prepared to do his duty regardless.

"I am Agent West of the Acromantula Division and I have been ordered by my superiors, Agent North and Commander Rebel to escort you through certain, non-classified areas of Raider Headquarters. Kindly stay close and please do not open any unauthorized doors." With that, he turned away and strode briskly off, ignoring the Order members' insulted expressions, Snape's sneer and Dumbledore's lack of twinkle.

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The first door they stopped at was painted bright yellow. It was quiet behind the door. West gave them a warning glare.

"Beyond this point is the main center of the Sphinx Division. They are our expert researchers. I suggest that you try not to disturb their work as they can be quite deadly when their studies are interrupted. Please follow quietly." Suitably chastened, the Order traipsed after him. They could not stifle their gasps, however, when they saw just what the 'center of the Sphinx Division' was, exactly.

The room was immense, the walls consisting of towering shelves filled with obscure and powerful books. Desks were littered with papers and manuscripts while the floor was covered in runic circles. Mirrors of varying sizes did not show reflections but rather contained various images of different places and people. Two grey-robed Raiders were flitting among the shelves, large piles of parchment in their arms. Another was studying the images in the mirrors, flicking her wand to change the views with dizzying speed. A fourth was busy inscribing a new runic circle on a clear bit of floor, muttering under his breath as he did so. The last was walking towards them, her plain robes not disguising the fact that she was a young, fit woman. All five of the Raiders in the Sphinx division wore masks and badges in the same shade of yellow as the door.

"Ah, yes. Agent North informed me that our Division would be first on your tour. I am Agent Lightning, Head of the Sphinx Division. I'm afraid we're right in the middle of preparations for a fairly complex ritual at the moment, so I can't pander to your curiosity right now. Please try not to screw up any of our projects as you trample through," she said politely but crisply, her tired eyes still sharp.

"Now see here!" Snape spat, a vein throbbing in his forehead. "It's time you children showed some proper respect. We've played this stupid game for long enough. Stop wasting our time and let the adults handle things instead of leaving it to a couple of kids playing pretend!" The room had gone silent as all the Raiders stared at him, their postures stiff and their faces blank behind their masks.

"Get out," Agent Lightning ordered simply, turning from the visitors and walking back towards one of the desks. "Send them to Agent North, they're obviously not ready to treat us with maturity. Have them removed from the premises," she told West over her shoulder. He nodded curtly and swept from the room, not checking to see if the Order was following or not.

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Agent North of the Acromantula Division was a rather short, stout young man with hazel eyes behind his silver mask. He was seated behind a silver door at a rather large desk, examining several charts and lists when West showed them all in.

"West? What is going on here? According to the schedule, you should be showing our guests around the Phoenix Division after warning them away from those maniacs in the Poltergeist Division," he fussed pompously, rising from his seat.

"I apologise, Agent North, but one of the Professors managed to upset Agent Lightning and her team, so she ordered me to bring them here. She wants them gone from Headquarters," West answered stiffly, the tall youth clearly not enjoying being reprimanded by his shorter superior.

"I see. Snape, I assume?" huffed North irritably. "Rebel said that this would happen, but I expected it to be in the Thestral or Dragon Divisions at least. Very well, West. Take the rest of the group and proceed with the tour. I shall escort Snape, the Deputy Headmistress and the Headmaster to the Commander. He is currently meeting with Moon and Garnet, but he will see us."

By this time, Snape was visibly shaking with rage. Moody snorted, McGonagall was trying to hide a smile and Sirius Black was making no effort to disguise his snickers. As West exited the office, beckoning for the rest of the group to follow, North fixed the three teachers with a beady eye.

"The Acromantula Division is responsible for the organization of this faction. We ensure everything runs smoothly between the Divisions and we have very little tolerance for those that can not follow simple rules and instructions. The Commander's decision to allow outsiders into these Headquarters, especially members of the Order of the Phoenix, was not welcomed by all the Division Heads, but was obeyed with the knowledge that we may have to collaborate closely with your group at some point in the future. I must apologise if some of our agents have been less than accepting, but please try to refrain from antagonizing our Commander at least. It will not turn out well if you do."

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The Commander, Rebel, was seated in what looked like a small conference room, deep in discussion with two other Raiders as they pored over several reports of some kind. He was not heavily built, being rather short and slim in stature. He wore the same grey robes as his subordinates, but without a coloured badge. His hood was charmed so that his face was always shadowed, but they caught sight of a full face mask, also plain grey. To Rebel's left stood a tall, dark-skinned young man. His mask and badge were a purple so dark they were almost black. Across from him on the other side of the table was a petite, pale young woman with a pure white mask and badge. Three sets of eyes focused on North as he entered the room with the teachers in tow. Rebel stood.

"You wished to have them brought to see you if there were any issues," North announced bluntly and Rebel nodded.

"Thank you North. You may return to your duties. Garnet, Moon, could we possibly discuss this matter later? Perhaps once Meteor has returned with the information on their secondary sources?" When all three agents nodded and left, he gestured for the quiet professors to take a seat.

"Now, why on Earth would North have to bring you to see me and interrupt my meeting with the Head Agents of the Ghost and Dementor Divisions?" Rebel asked mildly, sitting down and leaning back casually in his seat.

"It appears that my Potions Professor upset a young woman in your Research Division, an 'Agent Lightning' I believe?" Dumbledore replied just as mildly, but his blue eyes were twinkling brightly.

"Disrespectful little brat! How dare she speak to us in such a manner? I refuse to have some condescending child order me around like that!" Snape snarled, now glaring at Rebel with accusing eyes.

"That is enough, Severus!" snapped McGonagall. "Yes, the young lady was rather curt, but how happy would you be to have uninvolved people interfering with your research? While it in no way excuses her behaviour, I can fully understand her aggravation."

"Agent Lightning is our greatest researcher and her intelligence and drive are brilliant assets to our group, unequaled by any I've ever seen. Her social skills, however, leave a bit to be desired sometimes," Rebel admitted, amusement evident in his tone. He leaned forward, suddenly serious. "Do not underestimate my group, Professor. They may be young, but they all possess skills invaluable to my organization. Mutual respect is necessary if the Order wishes to form an alliance with us. My agents will not tolerate dismissive attitudes. Question the skill or expertise of my people again and I will not be responsible for any spontaneous demonstration they may decide to give you. This is your first and only warning on the matter."

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The rest of the Order was enjoying themselves immensely. After they'd left the professors behind, West had relaxed a bit. The seven Order members followed him along the passage, Tonks questioning their guide about the hierarchy and Divisions of the Raiders.

"There are ten Divisions in our organization, each with their own purpose and identifying colour. The Divisions are run by a Head Agent, who reports only to the Commander and occasionally their supportive Division Heads. For example, our Research Division, Experimental Division and Magic Division all work closely together, reporting progress both to each other and the Commander," West explained, gesturing to the yellow, orange and blue doors that lined that section of the hallway. There was a loud explosion and an orange door swung open to reveal a short, coughing youth with a strange pair of goggles fitted over his orange mask and a tool belt strapped around his grey robes. He paused at the sight of the group as another choking youth, even smaller than the first, emerged from the thick red smoke billowing from the room.

"Next time, we don't let the golem hold the Doxy venom," the second one rasped.

"Ah, Head Agent Seeker, Agent Chaser, what have you destroyed this time?" asked West, almost pleasantly. The two merely grinned.

"If we can get this just right, those Death Eaters are going to have major freak outs on the battlefield. Ladies and Gentlemen, allow us to present the Dumbledore Golem 2.0! Our latest masterpiece!" one announced proudly as a slightly singed Albus Dumbledore exited the still-smoking room. The Order members gaped as he beamed at them all.

"We just can't seem to get the voice right, though," the other mused as the lifelike golem offered everyone a lemon drop in a squeaky voice.

"Yes, for some reason his voice matrix is having difficulties aligning with the chameleon box installed in his throat. Not to worry, we think we're on the brink of a breakthrough. Also, our explosive gel is just about ready to be added to the synthetic Dark Marks," the first exclaimed cheerfully before disappearing back into the workroom. His partner nodded with a smile and followed, grabbing the golem who was attempting to convince Tonks to braid his beard. The Order stared numbly at the closed, orange door, then startled as West cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"That was our Poltergeist Division. They're rather unpredictable, so I suggest steering clear of the orange doors," he stated carefully, moving away.

"Alright, so let me get this straight. The Sphinx Division is for research and uses the colour yellow. Orange is for the Poltergeist Division, which is obviously the Experimental Division. I take it that blue is for your Magic Division, then? What do they do?" Arthur Weasley asked curiously. West smiled grimly beneath his silver mask.

"Blue is indeed the colour of the Magic Division, otherwise known as the Boggart Division. They devise new potions and spells for us to use. While the Poltergeists create objects for us, such as combat robes and enhanced portkeys, the Boggarts focus solely on magic, such as creating shields, jinxes and stealth potions."

"So you mean to tell us that you have people creating all-new magic? That's incredible!" Remus breathed reverently.

"Well, what is the actual purpose of your Acromantula Division, then? Besides giving visitors tours in silver masks?" interrupted Tonks.

"We are the organizers of the group. We make sure that everything runs smoothly. I suppose you could say that we're something like the administration," West admitted with a shrug.

"Oh. Okay. So what about the other six Divisions? Which ones are their doors?" she waved at the various-coloured doors that lined the incredibly extensive hallway. West gave her a small smile.

"The door on your right, the gold one, is one that belongs to the Phoenix Division. We are to visit them next. I'm sure you will be able to guess what they do."

The Phoenix Division turned out to be the Healers. They were greeted by the smiling, gold-masked Head Agent who introduced herself as Spear. Her fellow agents included two combat medics, Agents Whip and Axe, as well as two base healers and one emergency healer, which was the Head Agent herself. The Phoenix Division was a cheerful but firm group, reminding the Order of friendlier versions of Madame Pomfrey, the Hogwarts school nurse.

After that, they visited the supportive Division of the Phoenix Division, the Bowtruckles. They were in charge of defenses, wards and protection. Their Head Agent, Mandrake, was a large young man, quiet and rather serious. His golden-brown eyes were warm behind his green mask.

From there, the Order was introduced to the Offense or Dragon Division, who wore red masks. A vibrant young woman with the code name of Fireball was the Head Agent. Just next door, behind a purple door, was the Public Relations Division, or the Dementors, as they were more commonly known as. The Head Agent was Garnet, but he was apparently in a meeting with the Commander. His Division was the supportive Division for the Acromantulas. Right near the end of the hallway, the doors became black and white.

"The black doors belong to the Thestral Division, our Strategy Division. The white doors are for the Ghosts, their supportive Division. The Ghosts are our counter-intelligence agents. Unfortunately, I am not authorized to let you into either of these Divisions, their information is top-secret and extremely important to the success of our operations, after all. The door right at the end, however, the one in grey, leads to different meeting rooms and a general common room, as well as the Commander's personal office. Again, I cannot allow you access, as the business conducted in those rooms is also confidential," explained West. Before he could speak any further, the grey door opened and the real Dumbledore stepped out, followed by Snape, McGonagall and a small figure in a grey mask.

"Ah, West, right on time. If you could…" Rebel began, but was interrupted as a black door slammed open and two black-masked Raiders stormed out, both hurling insults at each other.

"You were clearly dropped on your head too many times as a child! Your brain has leaked out of your giant ears," one sneered with disdain. His companion, who was at least a head taller than him, was turning red beneath the mask, blue eyes flashing angrily.

"Oh yeah, you irritating little goblin? Then why does the entire team agree that my formation clearly has the greater chance of success?" he growled. The first opened his mouth to retort but then caught sight of their audience and shut it with an audible snap.

"We shall discuss this some place where there are no prying ears," he said haughtily and swept through another black door. His companion threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Bishop! Don't you dare just walk away from me when I'm winning this argument!" He too disappeared and there was a momentary silence. It was broken by loud giggling as the Dumbledore Golem 2.0 ran past with a cauldron on his head and the two Poltergeist Agents chased after, begging him not to eat the Runespoor eggs. Rebel and West sighed as the Order members and professors blinked.

"As I was saying, please escort our guests to the exit. Agent East will ensure their safe return to Hogwarts," Rebel spoke up, his voice pleasant and relaxed. West nodded. "Remember what we discussed, Dumbledore. Now, I have to go and supervise the aerial training of the Dragons. Please excuse me," the commander added, striding away and entering one of the red doors further down the corridor. The Order was led to a silver door, behind which was a room that contained fiver fireplaces an shelves of what they assumed were portkeys, all small silver chains with a silver Raider symbol hanging from them. Another silver-masked Raider was standing beside one of the fireplaces, refilling the pot on the mantelpiece with more floo powder.

"East, I've brought the Order members for transport to Hogwarts," West announced. East turned and the visitors realised that instead of a tall, broad-shouldered young man, East was in fact a tall, broad-shouldered young woman. She smiled and held out the pot.

"This fireplace is currently set for the Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. That's as close as I can get you without adjusting the system," she said in a low, smooth voice. And with a swirl of green flame, they were gone.

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_Another one that will most probably evolve into a full story if I ever get the time. The intricacies of the organization might be a bit heavy in this chapter, but it really is just to get a feel for the characters and the organization as a whole. Voldemort is going down! Wooh!_


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